byChrisWhite – 2016

Now, in this curious age we’ve found ourselves, there is nothing quite as fashionable as scandal. And in that regard, the television media has taken a particular fancy to the failures of our law enforcement, reporting them with a fervor as if each officer’s misstep were a personal affront to journalism itself. It’s enough to make one wonder if the truth isn’t being stretched as thin as a beggar’s winter coat. But I fear that while the media may be fanning the flames, law enforcement seems to be supplying the firewood, often with actions that baffle even the most ardent supporters of the men and women in blue.

I used to think there was a bit of good sense left in the world, that somewhere amidst all the noise there was a shared understanding of justice and humanity that would shield us from this kind of collapse. But these are different times. Times when everyone, and I do mean everyone, is walking about with a high-definition camera in their pocket. It doesn’t matter if you’re a banker in a skyscraper or a beggar under a bridge, everyone’s got a cell phone. If you happen to witness a “critical incident,” as they call it, involving the police, well, congratulations, you might just have a payday coming your way, so long as the footage shows something suitably scandalous, of course. For the media, it’s less about justice and more about ratings. There’s gold in them thar failures.

The grim irony of it all is that civil litigation over police misconduct doesn’t really punish the offending officer so much as it does the taxpayers. The officer might lose a badge, might get relocated, or might, more often than not, continue on until another incident erupts. Meanwhile, it’s the public purse that foots the bill. As if those who bear the greatest risk in trusting law enforcement should also bear the cost of its failures.

It’s an impossibly difficult job, that much I understand. A police officer is asked to keep the peace, to step into chaos and demand order from people who have no interest in being orderly. The law books have these tidy phrases about “reasonable force,” but I dare say they mean little to the officer ducking a swing from a drunk or facing down the barrel of an unlicensed firearm. What’s reasonable then? It’s easy to write about it in a textbook; it’s something else entirely to live it, punch for punch, in a dark alley. And now that every interaction comes with a side dish of video evidence, one’s actions aren’t merely examined but dissected, replayed, judged by juries who never set foot in that alley.

More troubling still is the realization that some of our police officers simply don’t have the emotional fortitude for the job. You might call it a lack of aptitude or simply an overabundance of human frailty, but it’s evident that too many officers are thrust into situations they are ill-prepared to handle. Law enforcement isn’t just a career; it’s a crucible, a test of resolve that can bring out the best or the worst in a person. And right now, too many are failing that test.

Take the case of young Tamir Rice, a child barely on the cusp of his teenage years. The City of Cleveland found itself handing out six million dollars in settlement money for his untimely death at the hands of a rookie officer. Was it the lack of experience that caused the officer to fire so hastily? Or was it something more insidious, a lack of empathy, an inability to see a child rather than a threat? Training alone won’t solve this. The heart must be willing to serve, to protect, and to truly see the humanity of those it faces.

There was a time when being a police officer didn’t require a degree, just a good heart, a firm hand, and a basic sense of decency. Today, some departments require an associate’s degree, but I’m afraid that more schooling won’t fix the underlying problem. Low wages don’t help either. Good men and women, those with empathy and intelligence, often look elsewhere because policing doesn’t pay. And who can blame them? The job comes with a heap of responsibilities, none of which seem to be adequately balanced by the paycheck.

Now, I’ve known officers with degrees from Ivy League institutions, men and women with grand ideals about the role of law enforcement as public service. They’re not in it for the car chases and adrenaline; they’re in it for the quiet work, the parts no one writes stories about, helping the elderly, ensuring safety at intersections, comforting victims of domestic abuse. But the problem with law enforcement is that it attracts the best among us, and the worst. It’s a magnet for those seeking to make the world better, and also for those who, to put it bluntly, have no business wielding authority.

Fortunately, states like Tennessee have mandated psychological evaluations for prospective officers, though the laws remain vague. Psychologists are tasked with determining whether an applicant is free from any impairments that might prevent them from doing the job, a subjective determination at best. Depending on the psychologist’s experience, and perhaps the sheriff’s persuasion, a questionable candidate may still slip through the cracks. I’ve seen it happen myself, candidates who failed initial evaluations only to be shuffled off to more “friendly” evaluators, returning with glowing recommendations that were clearly as much fiction as my own stories.

I remember my own time going through these evaluations. In some departments, the process was thorough, days of testing, interviews, and examinations that, while exhausting, felt at least partially aimed at determining fitness for the job. Other times, it was little more than a thirty-minute chat with a tired psychologist. The variance speaks to a lack of standardization that’s troubling. We entrust these men and women with our safety, yet the selection process seems, at times, like little more than a formality.

Consider the case of Officer Timothy Loehmann, who was responsible for Tamir Rice’s death. He had been previously deemed unfit by another department, had breakdowns during training, and yet managed to get hired elsewhere. How? Simple: there’s no central oversight, no standardized requirement ensuring that a failed candidate in one place remains failed elsewhere. Instead, he found a back door, a willing department, a willing psychologist, and thus a badge was pinned to his chest. It’s a glaring flaw in our system, one that costs lives and tarnishes the badge of every good officer.

It’s not just about hiring practices either. It’s about the long-term mental health of our officers. Policing is a job that wears down the soul, that takes good people and places them in situations of fear, violence, and hate. It’s a job where you’re expected to uphold order without succumbing to chaos yourself. But the truth is, without the right support, even the best officers can break. Suicides, spousal abuse, substance abuse, these aren’t isolated incidents. They’re signs of a systemic problem, one where we fail to support those we ask so much of.

The media loves to paint things in stark contrasts, good versus evil, black versus white, but the reality is messier. Yes, there are bad cops. There are racist cops, power-hungry cops, cops who have no business wearing the badge. But there are also good cops, officers who work thankless jobs, who put themselves in danger not for glory but because they believe in something greater than themselves. And for each of these men and women, the fear is the same, not just the fear of being hurt, but the fear of hurting someone else, the fear of making a mistake that ends a life and ruins their own.

Imagine standing in front of a crowd that hates you, wearing a uniform that makes you a target, holding a gun that could just as easily be used against you. Imagine being the officer faced with that split-second decision, is that a toy gun or a real one? Will I hesitate, and pay for that hesitation with my life? It’s easy to judge from a distance, but harder when you’re the one staring down that barrel.

We must do better. We must change the laws to ensure that psychological testing isn’t just a suggestion, but a requirement, standardized across states and enforced with the seriousness it deserves. And we must support our officers throughout their careers, offering them counseling, support, and the tools they need to cope with the darkness they face. We need more than better hiring practices, we need better support for those who take on this impossible job.

Perhaps then, we can find a way to restore some balance, to regain the trust that has been so badly shaken. It’s a difficult path, but it’s one we must walk if we’re to live up to the ideals we claim to hold dear, of justice, of fairness, and of a society that protects all of its people, even those who wear the badge.